


Crowley's Life

by flyernerd



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyernerd/pseuds/flyernerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean go back in time to burn Crowley's bones.  Cas tries to send them back to right after his death, but they end up too far back and find themselves meeting living, breathing, medieval Crowley - commandant of the Ranger Corps in a country called Araluen.  Sam and Dean can't go back until Crowley's bones are burned, so they have to live with the Rangers and train with them until Crowley dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowley's Life

As Will entered the Gathering Ground with Halt and Gilan, he saw that most of the Rangers were already setting up their tents. Only Crowley, it seemed, had yet to arrive.  
“Still skulking about in that hide of his,” Will muttered with a smile. He and his friend and former mentor began to arrange their own camping gear when they heard muffled voices and loud, crashing footsteps coming from the woods beyond the clearing.  
“Who the devil is making all that racket?” Halt exclaimed, “I thought you dribbling fools were supposed to move silently, or am I getting bemused in my old age?”  
Will and Gilan exchanged long-suffering glances, but immediately snapped out of it when two figures, presumably the source of all those thrashing bushes and cracking twigs, stepped into their secret grounds.  
Will gasped. He knew that the location of the Gathering ground was a closely guarded secret, and he could see immediately that the two strangers were no Rangers.  
They both wore strange checkered shirts that had a familiar pattern to them. Will closed his eyes briefly, until they flew open in alarm. The pattern was similar to the skirts worn by the Scotti general MacHaddish up in Norgate fief. Were the strangers Scotti invaders? How had they gotten here?  
In addition, they wore blue pants of a strange-looking material, and what looked like short leather tunics with long sleeves and open fronts. Both men carried sharp daggers with strange runes etched upon the blades. One of them was extremely tall with long, shaggy hair. He reminded Will of a deer, or even a larger animal. The other was slightly shorter, though still far taller than any of the Rangers, with close-cut hair and a hard look in his eyes.  
Will had unconsciously drawn an arrow, and he now noticed that most other Rangers had done the same. Seeing so many razor-sharp broadheads aimed in their direction, the strangers adopted a look of fear and threw their hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.  
“Please don’t shoot us,” the tall one said calmly, “we mean you no harm.”  
“I’ll mean them quite a bit of harm if they send an arrow at my head,” the short one mumbled.  
“Who are you?” Halt demanded. He took several steps forward, establishing himself as leader in Crowley’s absence. He did not drop the point of his arrow.  
“Do you know a guy named Crowley? Died recently?”  
Halt took a step back in utter shock, but kept the arrow tip up. He was getting concerned. Who were these strangers, and why did they want Crowley? And why did they think he was dead?  
Halt was about to demand answers when a new voice joined the conversation.  
“That’s strange, I feel rather lively at the moment.” The two strangers both turned to the source of the voice, where another figure in one of the those green-grey cloaks seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Halt sighed in relief, and Crowley flicked his strikers in rapid succession, so quickly that the strangers didn’t see anything coming until it was too late. They dropped to the hard forest floor.  
The short one, Will noted, had excellent reflexes, rolling rapidly and immediately away from Crowley before jumping to his feet and drawing from his coat a strange metal device, which he pointed at Crowley.  
The tall one also managed to stand up, and he hissed at the short one: “Put that away!” He then held out his hands in surrender, seeing the many drawn arrows pointed their way. He gestured for his companion to do the same.  
“Much better,” Crowley said, satisfied. He motioned for the two captive to be secured with thumb cuffs. “Now how about we sit down for a little chat.”

The strangers were propped against a log. Halt collected their weapons, including the metal device wielded by the short one. He examined it, never seeing anything like it before.  
The strangers whispered to one another.  
“How come he’s still alive? He’s supposed to be dead,” the tall one muttered.  
“Cas must’ve screwed up, set us a little too far back. How old do you reckon he is?”  
“I dunno, fifty?”  
“Dude, we can’t just wait around here for twenty years until he dies.”  
“What are you suggesting; that we help him speed up the process? He’s not evil yet, Dean.”  
Crowley and Halt sat down with the newcomers. Will stood off to the side with his bow on his arm, ready to act if their captive tried any escape tactics. The other Rangers had been sent off so as not to overwhelm the prisoners.  
“Who are you?” Halt demanded.  
“My name is Sam,” the tall one said, “and this is my brother, Dean.”  
“Where are you from?”  
“We hail from a land called America,” Dean said, “it’s very far away.”  
“How did you find us? This gathering location is supposed to be secret.”  
“We have an angel who used his heavenly powers to locate Crowley’s scent and drop is off in the vicinity. We just didn’t know he was tracking living Crowley, not your dead bones.” Dean looked straight at Crowley, “did you know they put the wrong date of death on your grave marker?”  
“You two had better explain yourselves, and start from the beginning.”  
“We’re from the future,” Sam said quickly, “the year 2013. We’re hunters. We hunt demons, ghosts, and monsters. After he dies, your friend here,” he indicated Crowley, “becomes a demon. After we stop the apocalypse and imprison Lucifer in hell, he takes over as king of hell. He’s been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately. We have an angel friend named Castiel, who zapped us into the past, so that we could find Crowley’s bones and burn them, which will kill him. Unfortunately, we were supposed to get sent back to the year after Crowley dies, but we’ve come back too far, and he’s still living. And Cas can’t zap us back to our time until Crowley’s bones are burned.”  
Halt and Crowley stared for a moment in stunned silence. Finally, Crowley spoke.  
“You mean to tell me you’re from the future?” Sam nodded.  
“Ghosts are real?” Nodded.  
“And I, in the afterlife, turn into a power-hungry demon?”  
“If it makes you feel better, sir, demon Crowley has a certain amount of flair.” Dean put in. Crowley glared good-humouredly at the captive. He was beginning to warm to these two, even if they’d just informed him of his most unfortunately post-mortem activities.  
“Well, I’ve always wanted to rule a kingdom, even if it is hell itself,” Crowley clapped his hands together. “So what do you two plan to do now?”  
Sam shrugged. “Hang around until you die?”  
“Halt,” Crowley said, turning to his companion, “what do you think of two oversized, futuristic Ranger trainees?”


End file.
